


Hot Dog Day

by MsSchneeheide



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Florida, Gen, Post-FIN, max - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSchneeheide/pseuds/MsSchneeheide
Summary: It's the beginning of July, and it's dog days in Florida - some very hot dog days.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 5





	1. Lucky Star

For a couple of weeks now it had been officially summer, and the worst of it had just begun on the day the accident happened.

Life was going on as usual in Florida.

"...connected to Sirius, which is a star, which is also called the 'Dog Star' and is part of the constellation of Canis Major…"

"That is Latin for 'greater dog'," Lolly chimed in, nodding by Suzanne's side and making her frown.

"... _yes_. And soon Sirius will rise very early, we could see it on the horizon before the sun -"

"Ah. I wish I could see the sun rise sometimes," Lorna sighed dreamily.

"...the sun... right. But _anyway_ ," Suzanne restarted, irritated by the interruptions and anxious to finish the story for her friends' benefit, "they also thought the heat caused lots of weird things to people and plants and dogs went rabid."

("You heard it?" there on a round of the blocks with PolyCon's rep, Warden Hellman smirked and elbowed his subordinate as they were walking by and caught part of the conversation. "Loon bitches talking 'bout mad dogs."

"Oh. Er… yeah! Dogs and... bitches. Pfft, crazy, right?" Blake faked a grin, with little success.

Hellman eyed him disgusted. "Fuckin' Mormon pussy…" he muttered under his breath. "You gotta toughen up if you want to be treated as a real man, Blake. Look at your boss for a lesson," he patted his shoulder heavily and strutted to Linda by the lunch cart, cockiness all over his face.)

"Aand that's why we call them 'dog days'," Suzanne managed to conclude. Fiuu, finally.

"Well, but I don't call them that," said Lorna.

"We say каникулы, kaníkuly, like 'small dog'," Red contributed. "But every day we live as dogs in Russia. Kicked and on a leash."

"Aah, poor things," Lorna rubbed Red's arm in consolation.

"Of course," Lolly nodded knowingly. "It's the same system everywhere. KGB, SVR, FSB, CIA, NSA, FBI,” she listed on her fingers: “different names, and they _may_ look different, but it's all a strategy."

"But…" Suzanne looked at the three of them and then met the shrewd understanding eyes of Taslitz, also at her table. The old woman shrugged. "Ookay."

She stood up to go ask for another yoghurt.

* * *

So it happened on the next day, at night, actually. Or very early morning if one wanted to be precise. It was 4 a.m. when the air conditioning in B-Block stopped working.

All of the Florida ladies were asleep then, and half the guards - aka one - were, too.

Blake was snoring, head on the desk, in the well-conditioned wannabe panopticon-style glass box from where he could keep watch on a good portion of the cells - or he could have done it, had he been awake.

McCullough, less comfy out on a chair which gave her a view of the remaining inmates (but used to worse from her army days), was on her way there as well. When suddenly, something clicked in her subconscious and dragged her mind out of dreamland. It was a sound or, rather, the absence of a sound.

It took a little but, yawning and looking around, stretching her arms, her skin registered something else: the heat. It was hot. It was really, fucking hot. _What the..._

 _Ah!_ That was the anomaly. The background noise of their not exactly state-of-the-art air conditioning was no more.

During the day, with the normal buzz from the women, it was almost impossible to hear it, but it became a constant companion at night.

_Damn._

She stood up, took a turn; confirmed the AC was off, Blake was still sleeping and so were the women, thank god. The last thing she needed was for one to notice the issue and wake up the rest.

Then she remembered some of them had high blood pressure and started fretting, and sweating even more. Fuck. And she even had a double shift today.


	2. A hard day's night

_Knock knock_.

Blake looked up from the objects strewn in front of them. They were trying to find a solution on their own, but anything electrical and ‘modern’ like Max’s ancient AC had still been too fancy for his upbringing, and he didn’t have much input to give.

From the opposite side of the glass, salt and pepper hair tousled (with just some paprika left) and a fierce scowl on her face, Red was staring in.

“Here they come…”

 _Knock knock knock knock_.

McCullough let her in before the peaceful slumber of the others was disturbed.

“Жарко,” she sentenced.

“Er…” the COs exchanged a glance. “What?”

“Жарко,” she repeated, “слишком жарко!” gesturing at the outside, where she came from.

“OK Reznikov, sit here,” said McCullough, guiding her to a chair.

“...тьфу,” her lips pursed unimpressed. “Slish-kom zhar-ko!” she articulated again, slowly; then she seemed to be looking for something in her mind, and finally she brightened, as she had dug it up - “Hot!”

“Ah! Yeah, right,” Blake smiled happily; the two women glowered, and he immediately turned grave. “I mean, er, yes, I know it's hot. We are trying to fix it,” he assured, motioning to the tools all around them.

“...yes, I see,” Red said in a more-heavily-accented-than-usual voice; and more accusing, too.

When McCullough went out to check the AC panel, Red offered her expertise. “I know factory work,” she stated conclusively. That was what she had been doing for years in Russia after all; boring, but maybe useful.

And when they were out of earshot, she whispered to the guard, “He is a sweet boy, but good for nothing, just like Dmitri." Then they got to their destination and McCullough positioned the ladder; Red started passing her the appropriate tools; then she froze, and stopped, brows knit in concentration. "Now I’m not sure... on Dmitri,” she looked up at the younger woman, who turned and looked back. “What do you say? Should I marry him?”

* * *

_Early breakfast in Florida_

Between the three of them, they still could not fix it.

Nor could the other guards, called in from other parts of the prison to aid.

Meanwhile more inmates started waking up sooner than expected, and the whole B-Block’s schedule was messed up.

Contacted by phone, Warden Hellman wasn’t exactly ecstatic.

“The _hell_ is it now?” he barked.

And then “NO WAY. No calling maintenance till Monday. You think Linda gives me extra bucks for your fucks up on a holiday?”

And finally "I’m off today, _you_ sort it out. And don’t let the old pussies croak, or you’ll do the paperwork.”

So they were left to their own devices.

Breakfast had been moved on, and plans to distribute the block's residents among C and D had been made, while the guards on duty continued trying to find a way to repair the AC.

Two of them were at the control panel again.

"Maybe she can make it," Lorna uttered vaguely, face turned in their general direction.

"It's not your fault," a CO was saying to the other, "could have happened to any of the guys here."

McCullough breathed out, jaw set, foot on the ladder.

His arm stretched out. "I got y…"

" _Stefanovic_. Back off or I'm gonna put estrogens in your energy drinks," she hissed.

His hand darted away from her lower back in a millisecond. "Hey, hey, babe, I was trying to hel -"

"...and don't. 'Babe'. ME." McCullough's voice got louder.

"Gee, yeah, ok. Fine." He walked back, palms turned up as if to placate a moody animal.

"Mh," Suzanne grumbled critical.

"Nope," said Lolly. "These systems aren't built to be repaired. One tiny piece goes kaputt and then you have to change it all. It's called planned obsolescence."

"Ooh," Lorna gaped, eyes a bit glazed over.

"That's how capitalism survives," Red added. "There, there, babushka," she took the spoon from Lorna's hand, barely preventing pudding from falling onto the table.

"...oh. Thanks, Red," she said mechanically. Lorna was her only daughter left, almost, and she was often in need of guidance; but she was also an affectionate child, that was one of her best qualities.

A few tables away Frieda was covertly observing them while finishing up her breakfast, keeping to herself as usual.

At another, the closest to the guards, was old deaf Gail Abbot with an incongruous blanket on her lap.

"So how's it going?" Stefanovic, retreated from risking to lose a helping hand to McCullough, asked under his breath.

"Well… what do you mean by 'it'? Because, if 'it' is this malfunctioning, I am not sure. Uhm, I mean, I am not an expert, I should say perhaps…"

"Darn… how's the bets, Al!"

"Oh! Mh," Alvarez looked around. "I don't think we are allowed to discuss this as of yet, the rules -"

"Fuck the rules. You're commissioner again, ain't you?"

"I am," he straightened up. "You reinstated me this year."

"And we are friends, ain't we?"

Oh. Alvarez seemed struck for a moment. "Well, of course our professional acquaintance goes back a long time, and the, bound of camaraderie that develops -"

"Yeah, yeah. So," his colleague continued, "How's the newbie doing? Got anything good with his players?"

"Uhm. Actually there were some developments," he revealed, an air of aloofness about him.

" _Motherfu_... what? What happened?" Stefanovic grabbed his arm.

"Well, it was a couple of nights ago," detached, Alvarez explained. Being cryptic and mysterious was his passion.

"What… wait, was it one of the hot tacos?"

Alvarez cleared his throat.

"Was it… oh man, it wasn't scissoring, was it?" he asked on, between worried and excited.

\-- Alvarez shook his head serious. "We crossed that out this edition, remember? It's not a thing."

"... right. Way to kill my life’s dream. So what?" 

Alvarez stood still some more moments, feigning indifference, looking at the tables. 

Stefanovic was perplexed. "...what?"

 _Cough cough_.

...

"- That was a dramatic pause, for suspense. Anyway…"

"What??" no, he was more like, exasperated.

The redhead's eyes peeked left and right, and he finally opened his mouth.

"It was in the bathroom. Just two nights ago…" Alvarez paused some more seconds, self-important… "and around two o'clock, with yours truly present... tears were shed." There. There it was. He had finally disclosed the big secret.

...

"And?" his colleague spurred on. "And?"

"And... it seems it wasn't even the first occurrence," he admitted, smug.

…empty seconds went by... and

"So... that's it?!” Stefanovic protested, “night crying? That's just 3 points!" eyes flaring, twitching nostrils.

Alvarez shook his head. Tut-tut. Not at all. "Actually, it's still two. That hasn't been reformed for this edition," he specified.


	3. Meanwhile...

_Breakfast in_ _D-Block_

  
  


_On this day especially, we must unite. Alas, the sun shone too bright on Sunshine State…_

“Urgh,” Flaca lamented. “This show was _so_ much better when _I_ ran it.”

“...sure,” Nicky conceded.

Cathie’s voice droned on, and breakfast continued too.

_So I’m gonna tell you once again, prepare to welcome our pink ladies as sisters!_

Groans could be heard from many a table.

“As if we weren’t already crammed up here.”

“M-mh,” Nicky hummed noncommittally, equal parts hopeful and concerned at the idea of possibly seeing Red and Lorna some more than usual.

“Well it’s visiting day, we won’t all be always here,” Maria considered. The three women were all working in the kitchen at ICE and had become used to spending time together. “Pepa is coming with Maria 2.”

“And Yadriel?”

“He’s working today.”

“Aww, that sucks,” Flaca said, sincerely sorry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Maria gave a small smile. “I’m just happy to see my daughter.”

The other two nodded.

“What about you? Got any visits?”

“Oh, no one could come,” Flaca shrugged evasive.

“Mh. Well my father is just too busy on this oh-doubly-holy Sabbath, as always,” Nicky paused, and then, as an afterthought, added ”And I’m sure Marka will have something better to do, or will come up with something anyway. She can be very creative.”

Maria looked between the two of them and then smoothly started talking about Scott's latest diet.

They were still mid-breakfast when a CO approached their table and told them to “Nichols, Gonzales, wrap it up and come with me.” Their glorious past in Electrical had been discovered and they’d been deemed the next best thing to the maintenance crew.

But that was just unfair, Flaca thought. They had to work twice as hard the previous afternoon to leave things ready for today, and now this… Why’d it have to happen on their free day?

* * *

“Fuckin’ hot,” she grumbled, looking up.

A glance from above the ladder. “Sorry Nicky, we’re better off as friends.” Left arm stretched, Flaca grabbed the wrench that was being passed to her. 

“Ouch. You wound me, Flaca!” she took the screwdriver in exchange.

“M-mh.”

“After all our bonding over the expired beef yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Clear, narrow eyes studied them closely for another moment, traveling from the short to the tall one, and back. Mh... _Naa_. She crossed something off her little notebook.

The Latina went on tinkering a bit, and Nicky sat on a bench, fanning herself with a half-torn instructions leaflet.

_Solitude is the place of purification and transformation, the place…_

“...wha-”

“Gimme the smaller one.”

“Aye, captain,” Nicky searched for the tool in the box, retrieved it, passed it on, and dropped back on her seat. Then she dried her forehead with a tissue.

“Pff.”

Flaca turned to the panel again.

_...For freedom is the open window which pours the sunlight of the human spirit and human dignity._

“Hear, hear,” said Nicky.

_Click._

“Ssh!”

“You said anything, Nichols?” a voice boomed from the glass office.

“Me? Er, no, CO Ging… Copeland. I was just reflecting upon this last inspiring remark.”

Sunk in her chair with a milkshake, Ginger nodded wisely. “Take note. It could really change your life. You too, Gonzales!”

“Yessir, madam,” Flaca assented.

“Mh.” The guard pressed a button on her iPod and restarted the podcast.

_Happiness is a choice, not a result._

“Oh, fuck me,” Flaca muttered.

“Changed your mind, have you?”

A glare.

“Oook…” Nicky stood up again. “So, how’s it goin’?”

“No idea.”

The other approached the ladder. “I can try to have a look.”

“Sure,” she shrugged, and climbed down. “Enjoy.”

_Patience is a fruit of the spirit that grows only under trial._

“There. You heard it.” Nicky climbed up, and Flaca grabbed their makeshift fan, trying to loosen the tight collar of her shirt with the other hand.

“I’m sticky in places I forgot existed,” she complained, blowing inside her own cleavage.

“M-mh.”

…”What’s up? That was highly riffable.”

Nicky looked down. “Right. I was considering a classy approach.”

_Go out and walk. That is the glory of life._

A snort. “...OK, really?”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get Alvarez,” Nicky mused, probing at a random wire.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, inmates?” Ginger asked, looking out at them from her cozy retreat.

“Just contemplating the glory of life, CO Copeland!”

“Mh.” _Slurp_. “Any success so far?”

“Not yet, but we’re keeping a positive mindset,” Nicky assured.

“Good, good. That’s the spirit.” _Slurppp_. And even if it took them another hour, who cared. It was cool in there, and watching two low-risk inmates at work was almost like having a break. Beat being in one of the other now overcrowded blocks. Also, the quiet gave her time to study her strategies for the new, improved-upon edition of Fantasy Inmate. Another idea struck, and she scribbled it down straight away, balancing her writing ware and glass.

_Seize the moment! Make of each day your masterpiece._

_Slurpppppp_.

“Oh, for…” Flaca sighed, and went back to fanning furiously. "Why didn’t we get Blake or Mac?”

  
  
  



	4. Of visits and happy meals

_ Visiting hour _

After they’d been told about her condition, Vasily had started going to see her mother quite regularly. Sometimes with his brothers, other times not; occasionally with Lida, Kolya and Katina, or without them. Which for Red made a big difference or not at all, depending on the day. One could never tell before.

“Where are Yuri and Maksim?”

“They’re in charge of the barbecue,” he explained.

“Mh,” she shook her head. “It’s a stupid tradition.”

“Mom,” he admonished. “We were born here. And it’s just a barbecue. It’s just an excuse to chill together for once.”

“Ah. I only wish you didn’t dismiss all  _ our _ customs,” she sighed.

“We don’t.”   
“I would have made some pirozhki with it,” she said wistfully. “They are much healthier, and tasty.”

Vasily smiled. “Actually, mom, Lida’s been practicing and her pirozhki are not half bad now.”

“Really?” she frowned.

“I mean, yours are a whole other league,” he quickly amended, “but still, she’s trying, and they’re pretty decent.”

“Right,” she softened, leaning back on the chair. “She’ll never be a real cook, but don’t be too hard on her. It’s good that she’s improving.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, hiding a smirk.

His mother went on with some advice on the best and easiest fillings Lida could work on, and Vasily continued nodding dutifully. It was a good day.

Then Red paused as a sudden thought hit her.

“Did you leave your father alone at the store?”

His face fell a bit.

“You know today is always busy.”

He recomposed. “No, mom, it’s closed. He’s coming to the barbecue too.”

“Ah! This day is always good for business,” she started, leaning forward, “I think…”

“Mom,” he interrupted. “We’re doing well, we really are,” he guaranteed, and pressed his hand on the glass partition.

She glared.

“Please.”

Aah. Mh. Still dissatisfied and scowling, she reached out from her side, and their hands touched/not touched.

Vasily half smiled, and Red grumbled.

So yes, all in all, today was a good day.

XXX

_ Finally!  _ she walked briskly to the seat, small quick steps.

Half of the time Francine was late.  _ When _ she deigned to come at all, that is.

“Hi…” Oh. Of course. Moreover, she visited alone.

_ He _ never came, and she had made her peace with it… but did that have to mean she could never see little Sterling now?

She got it, she really did: She was in prison, and it was complicated. But she was still his mother! Couldn’t Francine bring him?

“Lorna, we’ve talked about this…did you take your medications today?”

Again with the medications, and the sad look. It was her who should have looked all sad, closed up in here for a silly misunderstanding and kept far from her baby… why couldn’t her own sister be on her side? But then, it was too easy to guess - she was on someone else’s side. Vinnie’s.

“You know that’s not true, I know that you know, deep down.” And now she was saying those horrible things!

She insisted and went on some more, her mouth opened and moved, her eyes and face seemed to act in accordance but it was like she was talking in a foreign language or under water, Lorna’s mind just wasn’t able to register what she was saying.

“I don’t understand how you can make up such stories on your nephew, Francine. You’re a mommy too!” Yeah, some mother.

XXX

Unfortunately Grace and Brad could not come.

It was a pity, Suzanne would have so loved to see them, but he was down with an unseasonable flu, and she was looking after him.

“Maybe it’s the air conditioning. Mom, did you tell them not to exaggerate with it?” Suzanne took an immediate interest in the event, ”Refrigerant leaks can do lots of harm. And they’re also bad for the environment.”

“Yes, dear. They are barely using it,” Pam assured her.

“Mmkay. Lolly says some even say Freon is behind 9/11, but she says it’s bu…” she stopped abruptly; “bogus.”

Then she went on to recount how their own AC had stopped working earlier on that day; ah, so  _ that _ was why she was so engrossed in the topic.

“So we all had breakfast at six, which was fine with me because I was hungry, but some of the other women have diabetes and now their eating schedule is all me… all... confused.” She took a breath.

“Oh, that’s a shame!” Those poor women. “But surely they can have some snacks?”

“Mh, they can.” She didn’t look convinced. “But they won’t know when to eat them now. Some ladies are not so good with maths and, and, some others forget things.”

“Won’t the COs remind them?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Today there are less here because of the holiday, and the good ones are worrying about the AC - they might forget too.”

“I see. Then maybe, in that case,  _ you _ could help them,” Pam suggested.

“I guess. Even though it’s  _ their _ job,” she stressed.

Suzanne had become more argumentative recently; luckily, after some time she also seemed to have retrieved her positive energy. The financial literacy program she was involved in and her friend there must have played a role.

They chatted about that for a bit, which got her daughter in a better mood.

“So, what are your plans for the day?”

“I’m not sure. Ooh, they promised a special lunch!” she lit up, then got serious.

“That’s nice!”

“Yes… now, I’m not naive mom, I know it’s not necessarily true. But,” she grinned toothily, “CO Dixon  _ did _ say that he saw something interesting in the kitchen yesterday.”

* * *

_ Lunch time _

“I bet Warden Ward would have gotten us a real barbecue!”

“Mh, I dunno Suzanne. That’d be a stretch honestly, even for Tamika,” Taystee said, sitting down.

Her friend sat on the opposite side of the table, and made her point with eloquent words and hand gestures: “ _ You _ forget she got us the  _ chickens _ !”

Taystee shrugged, opening the bun and slathering its content with plentiful mustard.

Suzanne observed her critically, then proceeded to examine her own hot dog from all angles, moving it around her tray with a fork as if it were something unidentified and nasty, possibly alive, and potentially dangerous.

Tasytee started munching.

“I didn't want this new government."

“Ain’t no Storky’s, but it’s not that bad,” T promised.

“Mmh.”

She took a bite, and let out a sound of displeasure. “‘Tis too rubbery.”

“Weell, yeah, but it taste OK…”

Suzanne took a fry. Oh! These were better, quite good, even… but she was about to protest anyway, just for the sake of it - when she looked up at Taystee who was dipping her fries in a ton of ketchup and remembered where they were and their respective circumstances, and thought better of it.

She got on chewing, and her eyes took a turn of the tables and the D-Block crowd and some of the Florida ladies sitting at them. Something made them get back on a certain point, they widened and her upper incisors bit on her lower lip.

“Hey T, you’re right…” her friend’s frowning attention was on her again. “ _ We _ are not so bad off,” and she pointed at Nicky a little way away, who was looking with horror at the food on her plate, the tip of the hot dog dangling suggestively out of the bun.

Taystee lit up, and they burst out laughing.


	5. En plein air

_Yard time_

  
  


“Bullshit.”

“Bull _true_.”

“Er… excuse me, excuse me ladies… language, please.”

They exchanged a glance.

“OK Suzanne. We’re gonna watch our mouths.”

“Thanks, uhm. Bye,” wringing her hands, she proceeded on her way to the guards, Lolly in tow.

The older women watched them go.

“I never got the story behind that one, y’know.”

“Oh, well, I never knew myself.”

A level look. “Fine. But it’s a rather long one.”

“I have a _life_ time.” Taslitz’s eyes turned to the figures on the bench not too far from them, to the side of the kickball field. “You got anything better to do?”

Frieda followed her gaze, and sighed heavily. “Right,” she slapped her hands on her thighs. ”It started with ol’ Carol Denning’s ‘Classifieds’ joke…”

Meanwhile, Suzanne and Dixon were already engaged in a passionate discussion, Lolly nodding in support of her friend’s words and the wrinkle between McCullough’s brows becoming deeper by the second. 

“I thought of another pro, Mr. Dixon,” Suzanne was saying. “So…”

“Yes, Suzanne, enough pros really,” he patted her shoulder.

“OK,” she looked expectantly.

He frowned, feeling like a piece of shit. “It’s not that I’m not convinced…” he threw a tentative glance at his colleague. “It’s just, there are rules…” she pursed her lips. “...and rules are important, uhm…” he scratched his head. “Right?”

The question floated in the air for a few.

Suzanne darkened a bit, and something that sounded like “Rules are overrated” seemed to come from her corner.

“Oh, for f…” McCullough burst out. As if she wasn’t exhausted enough, now she had to deal with this too. “ _Fine_. We all know Hellman is not here anyway.”

“Yes!” Lolly pumped her fist, and Dixon appeared relieved.

“Thanks Miss McCullough, Miss,” Suzanne happily grinned at her, teeth and all.

“Mh. Just go,” the CO told them, and they started moving before she could change her mind. “But be quick and don’t get busted by Alvarez or something, OK?”

“Sure, yeah,” he smiled boyisly. “Thank you Art!”

“Don’t call me…”

“Thank you again,” Suzanne said.

“Mh.” Her frown would become a permanent part of her one of these days, she’d bet on it.

“We’ll make yours extra special Miss Mac,” Lolly assured, walking backwards.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, turning to check on her charges. Because _that_ wasn’t worrying at all.

* * *

“Suzanne should be back by now,” Lorna wondered aloud, a distant look in her eyes.

“Who’s that? The crazy one?”

“Mh?” she turned, as if surprised at hearing her companion’s voice. Maybe she had simply forgotten she was there, for a moment.

“Suzanne,” repeated Red, continuing to rub her back.

“Ah, yes, she is. The black crazy, not the goggled crazy.”

“Oh, right.”

Lorna looked at her again. “I think you should take some vitamins, Red. You keep on forgetting things.”

Red stopped rubbing and snorted. “I feel just wonderful, babushka. I’m thriving.”

“It must be the food,” she went on regardless. “I can see it in my skin tone. It’s not glowing like it used to.”

“M-mh.”

“And sometimes I have the impression something’s missing too…” she drifted off, a veil seeming to cloud her vision once more, and then she suddenly became animated. “Vitamins are so important for babies!”

“Of _course_ they are,” Red agreed. “I always stashed some fruit in my sons’ packed lunch for school. Vasily likes it, thank god.”

“Well... My Sterling is a little fussy, and his good-for-nothing father gives him too much sugar,” Lorna complained. “He can’t resist his cute little faces and spoils him.”

“Pah,” Red shook her head. “Men are too soft.”

“Yeah…”

The older woman went on with her work for a couple of minutes, focused; the other one relaxed, looking towards the fence, the road beyond it, and the trees - then resumed her musings.

“I wish I saw my baby, at least today. But they never bring him,” she sighed. “I can’t even trust my sister. Vinnie is trying to get into her pants.”

“Pff,” Red scoffed knowingly. “Men are pigs.”

“Mh. And how was _your_ visit?”

“It was good. All my boys were having a barbecue today.”

“Aww, that’s nice!” Lorna smiled.

“Yes… but they closed the store,” she shook her head. “They have no business acumen, like their father.”

“Well… you can’t expect them to be all you, y’know.”

“That’s true. There!” she announced finally, patting her back “All done.”

“Thanks Red!” she beamed… then paused. “But what did you do it for?”

“You had backache, no?”

“Oh… no, I think that was you.”

“...oh…” Red thought about it for a second, and then felt it. “ _Ooh_. Yes. You’re right.”

“Let’s switch!” Lorna said, positioned herself and the other woman accordingly, and started her ministrations.

* * *

A little later (too much, in McCollough’s opinion) they left their tour midway and rushed out.

The preparation had taken some time, what with raiding the kitchen for the equipment, ransacking vending machines around the prison and having a whip-round to collect all the necessary ingredients, putting them together to create their magic concoction and trying not to get caught while doing all this; then there was the actual distribution. They had only done C-Block, and decided to skip AdSeg and D-Block and the fussy guards on duty there for the moment. Also, Dixon had checked his watch and remembered his colleague, alone and surely fuming by now.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. Yes, there she was, watching over the four inmates at the tables, sunglasses on, lips in a thin line. “It’s almost the next group’s yard time.”

“Hey Mac,” he greeted cautiously, and whispered to his charges to “go, go on.”

Lolly and Suzanne hurried with a big thermos jug and glasses towards the woman. They had left the cart with most of their creation hidden in a closet, and just brought the necessary for the people outside.

Lolly started pouring.

“What’s that?” McCollough asked suspicious, taking off her shades.

“It’s the renowned _yellow drink_!” Suzanne explained with emphasis, handing her the glass.

McCollough didn’t find this reassuring. “...yellow?”

It was indeed of an indefinite color; there may have been an undertone of canary swimming in places in that pinkish-green liquid, but certainly not sufficient to deserve the name Suzanne had given it.

“Well, most of the ladies donated mints, and some had strawberry candies,” she explained.

“But we made sure to crush some lemon ones in every jug!” Lolly added.

The guard took a first tentative sip, Dixon nodding in encouragement and the other two waiting with bated breath.

“Mh,” she hummed tersely, but went on and gulped down the whole glass, requesting more.

“Yess!” Lolly and Suzanne cheered, and hi-fived with their free hands, just managing not to drop everything. Another success. C-Block had appreciated it, but they hadn’t been too confident McCollough would, as well.

It was very sweet, but not overpoweringly so - maybe thanks to the grannies’ mints, which were probably low-cholesterol; still, there’d clearly be sugar enough in a few glasses to keep her awake, at least till the end of the extra shift she had taken on for cash.

Then the inmates went to serve their friends the fantastic invention.

The two COs, instead, sat down on the nearest bench.

“We gotta go in five minutes,” McCollough said.

“Yeah,” assented Dixon.

He would retrieve the drink cart when possible and go on distributing the weird cocktail to the rest of the women, as promised. Its creators had argued it was good to counter the heath and keep everyone in high spirits for today.

Ah, there they were now. Whitehill had taken a folded piece of paper from her pocket, flattened it out and was now telling the others what it was all about.

Right, that, too.

Dixon had had to sneak into Florida's bubble to get to a computer, do a quick search and print the result.

"That's the best celebration, officer Dixon, you'll see," Warren had told him.

'Cause _time and hope_ : inmates here had too much of one, and too little of the other. 

So along with the refreshment they had handed out that US trivia quiz from BuzzFeed. They'd get 'em back and check them over dinner, and the highest scoring would win something, they hadn't told him what, but Warren swore it was very day-appropriate.

Well, anyways.

Really, the faces of C-Block when the eccentric excited duo had got in had been precious; and then some of them had not cared and brushed it off, some had tossed it away or made paper planes, but others had started to share pens and pointers, or hide their sheet from snoopers.

That was something.

But most of all, Dixon felt, it had been nice to see the expressions on Warren and Whitehill, more animated - and satisfied, happy with their good job.


	6. The pursuit of happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it ends. It was supposed to be posted weeks ago, as will probably become clear now, but y'know, life tends to happen. Thanks for reading, if you got this far maybe drop a word, and stay well!

_Dinner time_

The response rate had been pretty high, and Suzanne and Lolly spent most of their dinner in a corner table, marking quizzes. After showing a surprising interest in it, a very willing Adeola had been hired to scare off the curious who tried to approach and have a sneak preview of the results, and she was managing that excellently.

"You know there are at least 7 ways to kill someone with a plastic spoon?" she barely glanced up from her hands, which she was somehow manicuring with said object.

"Geez, Chinede, chill," Annalisa protested, but took a step back.

"Ethan Hawke."

"What did you say?"

"Shut up and walk."

"But what's this Ethan Hawke have to do with it?"

Adeola looked at her pale face and vacant eyes, and got back to her manicure. "You wouldn't get it. Go."

Some time after dinner a paper with a list of names and scores was affixed to the wall next to the COs' bubble, so it'd be easier for the guards to watch the women going to check it.

"Thank you all for your efforts ladies!" Suzanne announced.

"...and others!" yelled Mx. Tawney.

"... _and_ everyone, yes. You can see your quiz there where my colleague," an eager nod from Lolly, "will explain the mistakes."

Loud comments, grunts of disappointment and some mocking voices followed the publication.

"I knew this was fuckin' stupid," Daya told Adeola at seeing her low score.

"It was not the most scientific test I've taken, but some questions were thought-provoking," the other mused; "I wonder what I got wrong." She had ended up in one of the first positions anyway.

Flaca and Maria were in the mid-range.

"With less ancient history and more pop culture I'd have nailed this," Flaca complained. "I never liked studying about wars."

"Mh." Maria had her doubts, but chose not to expand on them.

A few feet away Nicky was getting back to her table for the day, and sat down.

"So how did it go?" Lorna asked.

"Well... if I'd remembered darn Jackson, capital of the marvelous State of Mississippi."

"Nexy time will go better, Nicky," Red told her, lightly patting her arm, and she soaked it in.

"Yeah. Thanks mom."

Lolly took a break from showing the interested inmates their sheets, and joined Suzanne who had gone to C-Block to tell the women there how it'd gone, and honor the winner with her prize.

Suzanne had recently got back to writing fiction, and wanted to donate a manuscript of her latest labor; but CO Dixon had caught sight of it and asked to take a look before the awards ceremony, just to be on the safe side, and he'd jumped at the first words he read.

_"By the spear of Athena!" Diana cried out._

_He kept drilling at 60 mph with his enhanced engorged spear-like -_

Dixon stopped abruptly, already starting to blush, and got back a few pages.

_"Drink!"_

_"Nnnn!"_

_Captain America gritted his teeth, muscles strained against the joint forces of the Bracelets of Submission and the Magic Lasso of Aphrodite. Finally, he could resist no more and gave up._

_"Aah..." and the liquid was forced into his mouth._

_"I know you want it," Wonder Woman said._

_"I... I... yes, Princess."_

_"Now let's see if this Serum will give you the endurance it promises;" her hand slipped down his costume, and cupped his -_

_-_

He closed the notebook.

Suzanne was staring at him expectantly, and he coughed, fiddling with the thing.

"So, Mister Dixon?"

"So, Suzanne," he commenced, red with embarrassment but trying to put on a stern front. "This is completely... it's... inappropriate!"

"Wha... but..."

"It can't circulate, you must know that," he continued.

She was baffled. "I don't understand."

"If one of the cardiopathics read it she'd have a heart attack, and I'd get into a shitload of trouble with Hellman."

"Oh," she frowned, "I see. We just thought it was perfect for the occasion."

"Why?"

"It's patriotic."

Now this... He didn't get it. "...How so?"

"Well, it's got superheroes," she explained.

Dixon shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to think of something else," and he handed back the precious sole existing copy of _Super Humps_.

Then it had been a close call, but luckily Lolly had found among her books _Aliens and Allies: What George Washington Really Saw at Valley Forge, and the Aftermath of This Encounter_ , and generously decided to give it to the winner; they both knew it wasn't as good as the first idea, but it was still day-themed.

Gail Abbot had liked the cover and seemed overjoyed with the prize in one hand, and the quiz in the other.

"I learned this in school!" she exclaimed, referring to her near-perfect answers.

Suzanne looked at _Aliens and Allies_ and thought that was what she was talking about.

"Really?" She was very surprised; not Lolly, who found confirmation of her theory that education was much better back in the days when it wasn't only a sophisticated means to control the masses, and seized the opportunity to tell her a bit more of what she would read.

"I didn't know of the role of the wild boar," the old woman smiled sweetly.

"I was talking about the battles of the w-a-r..." Lolly spelled.

Gail nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. I was probably a sophomore, too."

Lolly huffed, but went back to her argument, determined to make the unsuspected geographer-historian in front of her see the truth. Suzanne mumbled something, but let them be.

* * *

_Later that night_

It was past sleeping time.

After that mighty lunch, dinner had been a simple affair, food-wise, with just the extra bit of excitement provided by Suzanne and Lolly.

Then more mats had ben added in most cells to accommodate the ladies in pink with blocks C and D; they'd have to survive two nights and another day, and on Monday hopefully the maintenance company would come and repair the blasted AC.

She had been basically asleep too, but then an unbidden thought must had infiltrated her dreams, or her subconscious, because her eyes suddenly opened wide and she was very awake.

Taystee was ligthly snoring in unison with her bunkmate. Suzanne tried to squeeze her eyes shut again, she tried to get back to sleep – she really did! - but it was impossible, now the image was so clear in her mind.

She started counting backwards from one hundred a few times losing her thread, switched to sheep but they were so stupid they kept on scattering on the grass or getting caught on bushes, fidgeted for another couple of minutes with numbers and animals and plants filling her brain, and finally renounced and stood up.

 _Sssh. Don't make any noise Suzanne, don't wake them up. Be as silent as a_ _leopard, no, no, as a cheetah 'cause they can't even roar, yes, that's a better comparison..._

On tiptoes she got out of the cell, looked around, and walked towards the bubble.

At the sight of her the man inside was surprised, but let her in.

"What's up Suzanne? Can't sleep?"

"There's a problem officer Dixon."

"What is it?"

"I have to go back to B-Block."

The CO frowned; but he asked to explain.

 _Oh, fuck_ , he thought then. She was still talking and begging, but he'd already made his decision. He knew her, and he knew she probably wouldn't be able to rest now. Hell, _he_ wouldn't be able to rest, picturing Suzanne all absurdly antsy and worried.

"OK Suzanne, let's do this," he said.

"...and also..." she stopped. "Oh. Really?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Oh, thank you _thank you_ THANK YOU, I..."

"Sssh! Quiet, remember?"

"- Right, yes," she recomposed.

He peeped out. No one was stirring. Good.

"Mh, so, I gotta tell Blake first. Come with me, and," he repeated, "keep quiet Suzanne, OK?"

"Yes, of course Mister Dixon," she nodded eagerly.

"Fine. Let's go."

It didn't take too much to convince his colleague, but of course he had to promise Blake wouldn't be there alone for long and they'd be back veeery soon. Young was assigned to Florida tonight but was doubling in C at the moment; he'd likely come to D at some point, and if they were still not back Blake should say an inmate wasn't feeling well, and Dixon was off assisting her.

"Deal. Just make it quick OK?" the younger guard glanced at her, who kept very serious under his scrutiny, and Dixon assented.

When they were alone they could breathe more freely.

Walking towards B-Block, Dixon remembered one such day he had spent with his family, with a barbecue in his aunt and uncle's garden, a tough baseball game on TV and a much more relaxed match between themselves, and later on his first beer, with his cousin.

Florida was a desert – void of people, and definitely hotter than usual. However, maybe because the place had been empty for hours, it wasn't that bad.

They reached Suzanne's cell, and she rushed to the small shelf, while he kept on the threshold.

"Good girl!" she smiled. "You've done well."

Carefully, she brought the pot to the sink and gave some water to Blanche DuBois, her white variegated _Plectranthus neochilus_.

Dixon had thought it was just a mosquito bush.

"Yes, that's another name, because its aroma repels insects."

"Oh, OK." She was caressing the furry leaves now. "You see? Everything was alright."

"Mmh, yes," Suzanne conceded. But how could she not have been worried? Blanche was still young, and unused to being alone.

"Also, you know, it's her birthday today!" she added.

"Really?"

"Yes. My mom sent it to me three and a half weeks ago, but she'd replanted her five days before, so, you see, today she's one month old," she told, proud, and put Blanche back above the little desk.

Dixon scratched his beard. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you." Suzanne paused, reminiscing. "For my last birthday outside, we had fireworks."

"Oh, wow..." Well that was certainly something. "That sounds... impressive, Suzanne."

"Yes... well, they weren't _exactly_ for my birthday," she admitted. "We never had them as they can be dangerous up close, you know?" Dixon knew. "But one of the neighbors was Mr Wu, and it was the Chinese New Year even though I only found out later, and they were celebrating with those." She smiled. "We just looked out the window and there was this show."

The CO smiled too, and then he got pensive.

There were fireworks that night in Litchfield, and the town was not that far; surely some could be seen from Max too?

He thought. Well, there was only one way to verify this.

Resolute, he told Suzanne to take the plant and follow him, and after some hesitation she obeyed.

The road was clear, and out they went, the guard with heavy purposeful steps, the inmate with the pot in hand behind him, uncomprehending.

"We gotta stay here," he admonished; they had to keep clear of the watchtowers.

"Yes, OK, Mister Dixon..."

Nothing.

For several long moments, there was nothing but the building behind them and the former kickball field in front of them, the fence at its end, and the dark woods and sky beyond.

Dixon waited, and waited... darn. What a letdown.

Suzanne was perplexed, and maybe a bit concerned. "Er, Mister, CO Dixon, I mean it's great here and all but..."

But BAM. There!

"Oh. Oooh!"

Yes! There they were.

Red and white and blue and multicolored lights, bursting in the nightsky above the trees – "It's fireworks!"

Dixon grinned. "Yes! Yes, Suzanne."

"Hey, look there, look, Blanche. Your super special birthday present!"

Suzanne had not seen fireworks in years now, and she loved them. And it was just like last time! only instead of being her birthday in her mom's living room with her and the others, it was Blanche's big day and she was here out of Max, with Mister Dixon. She held the pot a bit higher.

He shook his head.

Dixon had seen loads of fireworks before and after that first beer with his cousin, and even recently; with family, friends and comrades, women; and alone. But could not quite remember them giving him this kind of borrowed pleasure.

* * *

_Just a little bit later_

Blanche was resting in Suzanne's arms, and Suzanne herself was half-sat, half-lying on her Florida bunk.

She had to bring her back, and put her to sleep properly.

"Plants can feel it if you care and talk to them and all that," she had explained to Mr Dixon when she'd asked for some more minutes there.

'And all that,' it came out, also involved some music.

Suzanne had sung "Stars and Stripes" and "The House I Live In", and now she had begun a lullaby.

Dixon sat against the wall of the cell. He had accompanied the first songs with his bass voice, and was now humming in tune with Suzanne's notes.

Were the fireworks still going on?, he wondered. They couldn't stay out watching too long.

Still, it had been good, and it had been a good day.

Long, and not started off great, with the darn AC problem and inmates complaining and all. But they'd lived through it, and some had even had some nice moments.

Was everything OK in D now? Young, would he be there?, and Blake couldn't have said anything, right?

In fact everything _was_ peaceful D, and C too, and in AdSeg.

Most all the inmates were sleeping, on their beds or else.

Gail Abbot was hugging _Aliens and Allies_ , her well-deserved prize.

Nicky was lying on a mattress in her cell; she had given her bunk to Red, it'd be better for her back. She hadn't wanted to sleep immediately, it was so good to have her ma there for once, but then the weariness of the day had caught up on her.

Not far away Flaca had also renounced her already limited privacy, and welcomed Lorna in her cell per Nicky's request – to have her be with someone trustworthy, and not one of those junkies.

"I'll make it up to you," she had smirked tiredly.

"Oh, shut up."

Flat on her back, Taystee was still snoring in a duet with her roomie, none the wiser about Suzanne's absence.

Suzanne. She was cradling that plant, and darn if "Summertime" wasn't working on Dixon too... his eyelids were drooping. But NO!, he had to stay awake, they had to get back to D soon... soon.

A _bip_ stirred him away from sleep... what was that? _Bip bip_... oh, right, his watch!

He felt for his wrist, yawning big.

Absentmindedly, he clicked, face up. Suzanne was saying a long goodnight to the pot.

He yawned again, and made to stir.

But... mid-movement, he turned, ears perked up. What was that? There was just something...

He looked up at Suzanne again. Suzanne looked down at him.

Yes, there it was.

A _rrrrrr_ , faint but very distinctive, impossible to mistake...

It stopped; they frowned.

And suddenly, with more force, it started anew – and there it was, in all its splendour.

The AC in Florida was working again.

Dixon checked the watch. The _bip_. Right, he remembered what is signaled: it was past midnight.

Yes, it was past midnight, and another day had begun. It was now Sunday, the 5th of July.


End file.
